The Prodigal Daughter Returns


 

The Prodigal Daughter Returns

Back By Popular Demand!!

The Sassy Sexy Irreverent One has made her way back to the Writing Blogosphere after a very brief hiatus!!

Still suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune despite all ills, aches and pains the Queen has made her way back to her Throne!!  In the guise of Blue Spider Woman and with extra assistance from the Nubian Ninja D-Nice is back in the House!! Three Cheers for her Ladyship!! Hip! Hip! Hooray!!

Blue Spidey Lady

 

 

Future Perspective


 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/future/#like-245233

Future

This week, share an image that represents the potential of things to come.

 

Future Travel ~~ One Day will we travel on airstreams and air-rails instead of clanging subways in the dusky dawn?  Will future generations fly to work on Jet powered-energy packs ala The Jetsons?

 

In the Future will Art & Images be downloaded into our brains as in The Matrix?  Will holograms be then projected from the Mind’s Eye?  By concentrating my focus on another sentient being shall I then be able to communicate creativity across the universe?  Then shall the Happy City shine forth.

 

 

Mirror. Mirror on the Wall. Show me the Future of the Fairest of All?  What if said Mirror were an anagram parallelogram of Dorian Gray? Able to show both past and future lives all in one glance?  Would you risk a dare to time travel infinite galaxies worlds gone, present and yet to come?

 

And if every word typed was a portal innumerable Futures the winding tape and clickety clack a step into a great unknown.  I suggest an idea and this youthful oracle guides my destiny.  Burn the Blessed Sage. Scatter the Bones. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Return.

 

 

Gary Wright – DreamWeaver Official Video

 

The Matrix – The Oracle

 

Pick up the phone! Pick up the Phone! Your Future is Calling you! Will you answer?

The Matrix Escaping from Work Scene HD

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pangeia


 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/planet/

 

This is a story-form prose-poem that came to me last night. As with many fellow writers many strange languages come to one in the period between wakefulness and full on sleep.  I have no idea whence this tale is going for it emerged from my inner being.  Enjoy and feel free to comment.

Pangaea_KarlE_Limper Geology Museum

PANGEIA

Pangaea

In the days before the great flood underground tributaries flowed and rose upwards to hydrate the land.  Where no underground tributaries existed rivers voluntarily overflowed their banks irrigating the adjacent crops.

Mother Pangaea graciously gave of her bounty feeding humans, animals, insects and sea creatures alike. None wasted. None were left wanting. None struggled. All bellies of sentient beings were filled.

A type of breadfruit grew plentifully from the overhanging trees. Villagers only had to reach out their bedroom windows or gather the golden ripe fruits which fell upon the ground at dawn to prepare healthy breakfast, mid-morning and lunches for the populace.

During this time of Pangaea all land masses were one joined together by straits, jetties and naturally born earth bridges. Gaia Earth Mother was a prodigious mosaic quilt of interwoven textile prints.

Persons who at this time were known as Ninth Dimension Changelings wore colorful garments of scintillating fabrics which gleamed in the Lunar Sun.

Pangaea_Continental Drift

Their skins were of a royal purple hue.  Ninth Dimension changelings’ distinctive characteristics were extremely long lavender eyelashes with feather extensions from the corner of each eye.  The color of the eye plumes varied among their tribes, shade designating their family coat of arms. Some 9th dimension changelings had tiny diamond third eyes above and below their natural visual orbs.  The eye feathers served dual purposes of adornment and transport.  Diamond, ruby, pearl, amethyst, and other gemmed 3rd eyes assisted in communication with fellow tribal changelings as well as those from other alternate universes. These implanted jewels were internal and external translation devices enabling ninth universe beings to understand and be understood throughout the celestial Diaspora. Shamans and priestesses had golden hued skins with clusters of many color jewels over their right eye or to the side of the left eye.  The High Priestess had the additional

Embellishments of semiprecious stones and crystals embedded into her chest region in addition to extra fine purple and blue feathers extended from her top and lower eyelids.  All Her majestic emissaries had spiraling, thick curly multi-colored hair that extended in an outward spherical motion from the heads.  Sacred inscriptions covered their backs, abdomens, arms and legs.

Being Ninth Dimension beings from a higher more realized realm all are Empaths & Telepaths.  Meaning they can sense the feelings, emotions, & thoughts of others then decide whether to communicate via spoken or unspoken languages.  Coming from a highly developed civilization they have the ability to heal others simply by sending healing and the ability to regenerate themselves of any illness or disability that may befall them.

They have the capability to travel through time and space either bodily or sending their doppelganger depending on the mission and circumstance.

They keep cats as pets.  MultiColored Bright Neon Cats.  The cats also have feathered tufts sprouting from their whiskers, ears, and eye lashes.

Suddenly the eccentric became a Banner of nonconformity and non-convention ready to spread Her gospel of healing across the pond if not the land.  Now anointed Shamans in the ecclesiastical of the peculiar.

Ritual, rites, ceremony and sacrament bestowed absolution; gave order to Her chaotic life.

Three SiStar Ninth Dimension Changelings: Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara.

Valley flowers arose from the dewy mysts producing the most delectable scents and fragrances. Three of the most scrumptious Valley Flowers were the SiStar Changelings Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara. SiStar Pangeia sprang straight from the heart of Mother Pangaea, Merlina was conceived via magic, and Samsara was the gift of the eternities.

Often they danced the Labyrinth, seeding the fields playfully chanting,

“Three Girls. Bouncy curls. Girlhood wanes so quickly. Raven, Red and Golden Brown.”

Daughter Pangeia gently pushed forward her winged Pegasus Unicorn Mare who with a gentle whinny and shake of her magnificent mane slowly lifted upwards allowing Daughter Pangeia to survey local territories and city-states in preparation for the eight year Mandala pilgrimage. The pilgrimage allowed all the inhabitants of Pangaea to co-exist in peace for epochs.  In the eighth year of harvest season townsfolk and villagers traveled great distances to gather at Mandala to dance the Labyrinth and to give Thanks to the Goddess for her limitless bounty.

One day whilst Daughter Pangeia was scanning the land for a suitable place to hold the Mandala celebratory ceremony a huge comet felled the skies striking one large river making it two. River good. River evil. River evil was an optic delusion designed to lure unsuspecting travelers with the appearance of clear crystal lakes suitable to drink from but turned out to be quicksand bogs causing many lost lives.

This greatly troubled Daughter Pangeia. She immediately flew to the mountain chambers where she and her SiStars resided for council.

After relating all that she had observed Daughter Pangeia sat together in the established Divine Cosmic Circle held hands during which Samsara communed with the spirit worlds receiving instruction.

Samsara

“Once I was baptized by hieroglyphics and clear cave markings. Mother Pangaea tattoos now imprinted on feeble minds. Blood red raindrops on wet sand. Sulphur burn odor twitched many sensitive nostrils.  Many incarnations are we! Many incarnations are we!  We make our homes Divine Temples.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breaking All Chains and Shackles


Osiris & Isis
Osiris and Isis

Despite the Challenges and setbacks in life my journey takes me to new places, new discoveries and new learning experiences.

Within the Soul the two natures of man exist each seeking the preeminence and each wanting to be the dominant force.  The Sacred and the profane.

The Struggle of the Two Natures in Man George Grey Barnard (American, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania 1863–1938 New York)
The Struggle of the Two Natures in Man
George Grey Barnard (American, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania 1863–1938 New York)

A Lost Soul finds her way home. Chains are being Broken.

Tasha Cobbs — Break Every Chain

My Awakening has happened over a period of time.  I went into the next phase of my  Womanhood as I entered Menopause. Truly over the last several years as I entered my 50s, (I’m 55 now) I’ve undergone a revealing Change of Life.  The Universe has opened up new portals and realms in which I travel taking on the mantle of being an Elder. I take my place within the Council of Elders as I march towards Infinity = Eternity.

The Heavens opened up and all my Ancestors, African, Native American, Christian, Buddhist, Indigenous Faiths began speaking to me on next steps in Life.  I truly believe in the Scripture that says, “The Steps of the Righteous are Ordered by the Lord.”  I’m discovering the Galaxies within. Through my Kindred Ancestors I’ve found into to Leap Forward I had to step back confronting my fears honestly with faith, gentleness, Wisdom and Understanding. I gather each of my broken pieces, honor the Divinity of each shard, embrace my tears, and like Isis I’ve gathered the pieces of my scattered tribes and Ethiopia is Reborn!  Shall these dry bones live?  Yes says the Creator of the Universe!  Once again I sing the Songs of Solomon and Sheba.

Habakkuk 2:2-3 New International Version (NIV)

The Lord’s Answer

Then the Lord replied:

“Write down the revelation
    and make it plain on tablets
    so that a herald may run with it.
For the revelation awaits an appointed time;
    it speaks of the end
    and will not prove false.
Though it linger, wait for it;
    it will certainly come
    and will not delay.

The Land of the Rising Sun embraced me as I entered the Border-less Gardens.

Live the Sankofa bird I’ve returned to myself.  Despite raging battles without and within my Calling and Passion as a Scribe bid me come forth to record my Voyage.  Grounded in the Lily.  Supported by the Lotus.

The Queen has returned to her Queendom. She sits upon her Throne whilst reigning over the Seven Lands, A Judge and a Mother over Africa, Israel and the Americas.

Judges 4 & 5.

Isaiah 54:1-3 New International Version (NIV)

The Future Glory of Zion

54 “Sing, barren woman,
    you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy,
    you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
    than of her who has a husband,”
says the Lord.
“Enlarge the place of your tent,
    stretch your tent curtains wide,
    do not hold back;
lengthen your cords,
    strengthen your stakes.
For you will spread out to the right and to the left;
    your descendants will dispossess nations
    and settle in their desolate cities.

Break every chain!  Indigo Children Rejoice!!

I’m Still Here


I’m Still Here…………

http://youtu.be/BbhEo-4_ETc

Mable Elizabeth Palmer
Mable Elizabeth Palmer

Today I am 55 years old.  It is a Blessing to be this age.  I have depression, anxiety and panic attacks. I’m also a domestic violence and sexual abuse survivor.  I’m the person sitting next to you on the bus, subway, at work and in church. No I don’t want pity just acceptance. Recently I had a conversation on my Facebook page regarding mental illness. It was good sharing with my FB buddy who works in the mental illness field about the obstacles and hurdles faced not only by the mentally ill but their families.  The government just seems to put more roadblocks in our way so we wind up taking many detours towards a place called Wellness.   My mother Mable Elizabeth Palmer lived most of adult life as a functioning schizophrenic. There is a serious lack of support services for the mentally ill thus we read of all these horror stories in the newspapers but for the most part many mentally ill folks carry on with their daily lives.  Despite all that I’ve been through as a child and again as an adult I’m happy to be alive.

Sometimes when I tell my story people who have these “happy lives” meaning a satisfying long term marriage, house in New Burbia, kids, grand-kids, successful careers feel sorry for me, pity or think I’m a walking tragedy living a substandard life. Not true!  I live in full life in spite of my numerous desert and valley experiences.  Perhaps an even fuller more substantive life than those who eat from silver platters.  Mine is not a half-life of only the sunny side of the street but a full life that includes the alleys, back-roads, ghettos, and dimly lit streets populated with voices yearning to be head.  I like it that way.

Nothing to be sorry about. Despite all the things my parents went through, especially my Mom’s battles with her demons, she was also an alcoholic, overall I had a good childhood. We have a choice to dwell on the sad past or the fond happy times of the past. I think about the good things.  The fun stuff our family did when I was growing up. Of course now being an adult I have a different perspective. I was not so accepting myself when I was younger but age, maturity, experience and time changed my viewpoints.

It’s the government and people’s approach to mental illness that needs to be healed. It should not be a stigma. I readily admit to my struggles with depression, anxiety and panic attacks. That’s my life. It is not a tragedy.The tragedy is other peoples reactions and perceptions of mental illness. My Mom was a good wife and mother. I served my country in the Army, earned my BA in English, held down jobs all my life, went to church, now a full participant in Shinnyo-en Buddhism etc… It would be good if people with mental illness were more accepted. If there was more help for those of us suffering. If people would stop trying to impose their expectations on me of what happiness means. Everybody has a past. Everyone has a story. Life goes on. I’m just happy to be alive.  Pitiful prayers, slapping oil on my head, telling me the latest New Age positive thinking strategy 12 Steps to Happiness, and sad sack face looks going tsk, tsk, tsk are an insult to my intelligence as a human being.  It is what it is. Raw, exposed and uncut.

I have health insurance so I do have the option of returning to those mind-numbing anti-depressant drugs I took after my mother’s death but I choose not too.  I choose the full gamut and range of my emotions and feelings as opposed to being a drug induced zombie.  During the high points in life I love my odd slightly off center sense of humor. The times when I’m at my lowest are the times when I’m most creative.  I’m a better writer, a better photographer because I know what it is like to live life in the margins, the outskirts of society, to be a misfit and an outcast.  I’m drawn to people living alternative lives.  That’s why I love Street Photography.  I don’t want what’s staged, posed or set-up. I want real. The nitty gritty. The down and dirty. The quirky and unusual.  If life was meant to be perfect happiness or total sadness the books of Job and the Song of Solomon would not be in the Holy Bible.

What would the world look like if gave a helping hand to the Mentally Ill by supporting organizations like NAMI, prosecuting men who abuse their wives and girlfriends and pulling the collars off ministers who are rapists.  What if we weren’t treated like modern day lepers?  Instead of further victimizing people living with mental illness write to your Congresspersons and Senators to create laws that will enable us to receive the treatment and support systems we so desperately need.

No I don’t need to be “healed” but our society does.

Me in 1961
1961- A Very Good Year